


I Only Wish

by nycgrl



Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: Assassin!Original Character, Assassins, Betrayal, Drinking, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, Haytham being a twat, Non-Graphic Violence, Templars, Templars being annoying, previous relationships
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-01
Updated: 2017-01-14
Packaged: 2018-04-12 09:42:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4474556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nycgrl/pseuds/nycgrl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Elisabeth Montgomery is an Assassin in the Colonial Brotherhood. Pursuing a mission she can't carry out, she finds herself reuniting with the one man she never wanted to see again. Or so she thought.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_The yells of Redcoats down the street caught Elisabeth’s attention, looking up from her book. The young girl had tucked herself onto a crate in an alley to read, waiting for her father and older brother to finish in the General Store around the corner._

_A sudden blur of navy fabric entered her vision, a young man slipping into the alley. Spotting the stack of crates, he darted forward, sliding behind them. Elisabeth twisted to glance back at him as he crouched behind her, and he raised a hand, propping up the brim of his brown tricorn hat so he could meet her eyes. A wide smile graced his face, and he pressed a finger to his lips, urging her to stay silent. She turned back to her reader just as four Redcoats appeared at the entrance of the alley._

_“You there, miss! Have you seen a man running around here? Dressed in blue, with a brown hat.” One demanded, and she put on her most innocent expression, staring up at the guards with wide round eyes and shaking her head. “He must have gone around the corner.” The guard ushered the others off, the sounds of heavy boots and clanking metal soon disappearing down the cobblestone street._

_“What’s a young lady like you doing hiding in a dirty alley?” His deep voice behind her startled her; clipped, upper-class English, like her own accent. She pushed the book into her bag. “I’m waiting for my father and brother to finish.”_

_“What, they just left you here?” He looked appalled, rising from his hiding place._

_“I’m eight years old, I can take care of myself.” She retorted angrily, but he simply smiled, his grey eyes warm as he sat next to her on the crate._

_“Well then, I thank you for your help, Miss..” He trailed off expectantly. “Elisabeth Montgomery.” She replied importantly, sticking her hand out to shake the way she saw her father often do. The man’s eyes sparkled with repressed amusement, and he took her hand, but instead raised it to his lips, pressing a kiss to the back. Her cheeks flushed pink as she smiled widely up at him, but he looked up as there were more heavy footsteps approaching the alley._

_“Very nice to have met you, Miss Montgomery, and many thanks for your help.” He said quickly, sending her a wink and a smirk as he rose. She looked up to find her father entering the alley, her brother close behind, but when she turned back to look for the man, he had disappeared._


	2. Chapter 2

Elisabeth had grown up to join the Colonial Assassin Brotherhood in Boston at seventeen years old, along her father and brother, trained to aid in the fight against the Colonial Templar Order. She was the only female officially in the Colonial Brotherhood; other women aided the Assassins in their goals, but she was the only true member.

Two years later, her missions had been mainly small assassination targets, nothing important, but one morning, when the orders came down from the Grandmaster, she’d gawked at the parchment at the single name written in script.

_Haytham Kenway._

She knew the name, of course. He held a high rank in the Templar Order, and was a bet for assuming the rank of Grandmaster, head of the Colonial Templars. How was this possible? A lowly Assassin, still a novice. How was it she’d been ordered to Assassinate one of the most important men in all of Boston?

Nevertheless, she’d gladly obliged.

For several days, she’d watched the man in the streets, hidden from his view, observing his daily activities, the streets he took, the places he went. There was a ball to be held Friday evening at the Governor’s mansion, and that evening, Liam delivered an invitation he’d procured to the event to her, along with instructions to attend the party to observe, and assassinate Kenway if given the chance. She dressed in the ball gown they’d given her, amused at the change it presented from the plain white Assassin robes, pinned her hair up, and went out, making her way to the party.

At the door, she flashed the invitation and a sweet smile to the footman, and he waved her past without a second thought. His eyes had been a little too firmly fastened on her cleavage, accented by the bodice of her dress.

Once inside, she did what she did best: disappear. Blending into the crowd was easy, given the rather unassuming cream colour of her dress, and she watched. Kenway would show soon enough.

When he did, she spotted him instantly, eyes locking onto the familiar figure. Kenway moved with a self-assured arrogance, a cocky half-smile on his face, mostly hidden beneath a brown tricorn hat. His eyes moved through the crowd slowly, looking over everyone attending as he moved through the people, and Elisabeth’s heart skipped a beat as his gaze settled on her, a smirk quirking his mouth as he stared intently at her. He must have just found her pretty, she thought. There was no way he knew. No way he could ever possibly know.

She wound up near him, a glass of wine clutched tightly in one hand, as she varied between keeping from spilling the bloodred liquid on her skirt, and avoiding his gaze. No matter where he went in the room, she could feel his eyes on her, watching. The way she’d been watching him for the last week.

“What’s a young lady like you doing here all by herself?” His voice purred in her ear, and she very nearly dropped the glass she was holding, clutching her skirts with her free hand. Her surprise didn’t come from the shock of him finally approaching her. It was the shock that she realized she recognized that voice, having heard a very similar phrase spoken in the same voice. It had been nearly ten years ago, but still she recognized it.

The young man from the alley. The one she’d hidden from the Redcoats, lied to save.

Of course they would grow up to become enemies, to join opposite sides in the biggest rivalry of the ages.

Irony was cruel.

“Are you alright, miss?” He was concerned now, as she stared glassy-eyed ahead of her, lost in her memories, a look of panicked shock on her face.

“Yes, I’m fine. You startled me.” She replied quickly, sending him a smile in what she hoped was an innocent excuse. He arched an eyebrow, but didn’t question it, deciding not to press her. She studied his face for a moment, seeing him up close for the first time. His grey eyes were harder, not the cheerful sparkling she remembered. His face was more defined, high cheekbones and a strong jaw and nose, his familiar hat dipped low over his forehead. His dark hair was tied back at the nape of his neck with a scarlet ribbon, matching the trim on his waistcoat, peeking from the lapels of his navy coat.

“You just can’t get enough staring, can you.” He commented wryly, eyeing her sideways. “Pardon?” She asked in surprise, and he smirked rather darkly. “You’re not being entirely subtle, my dear.”

Shaking her head slightly, she looked away, fiddling with the rope of pearls around her neck. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”

“What’s your name?” He asked suddenly, and she faltered for a moment, not expecting the question.

“Katherine Thompson.”

He eyed her silently for a moment. “Your real name.”

“That _is_ my real name, Mr. Kenway.” She replied dryly, dark eyebrow cocked in challenge.

“I sincerely doubt that.”

“And why do you say that?” She demanded, frustrated with his games. What was he playing at?

“A self-assured eight year old girl will not lie about her name when asked, as she is too proud to announce her family name, Miss Montgomery.”

Her eyes widened ever so slightly, but she quickly masked it. “I’m sure you’re mistaken. My name is Katherine Thompson, sir.”

His face betrayed no emotion, but she could practically feel the annoyance radiating off of his form. “Of course. Would you care to dance, then, Miss Thompson?”

She couldn’t refuse now, and set her glass on the tray of a passing waiter, reluctantly allowing him to lead her onto the dance floor. Haytham Kenway was an expert dancer, she found, but it didn’t ease the fact that she was somewhat frightened of him now. She’d been trained to be fearless, but this man wasn’t making it easy for her.

One large hand was splayed across her lower back, holding her body close to his, his other hand entirely engulfing her small one as he held it lightly, his face near hers. She didn’t dare look at him, though, afraid her eyes would betray her if she did. His voice was so quiet that she would have missed it if she hadn’t been paying close attention.

_“I know what you are.”_

She wasn’t going to find out whether he was bluffing, quickly yanking her hand from his and stepping away, staring up at him with narrowed eyes. He was looking down at her with a satisfied smirk, absently toying with the ring on his finger.

A red cross.

Her gaze flitted to it, but when she looked back at his face, she knew what she thought had been a subconscious gesture had been entirely intentional. He gestured to the side, silently directing her towards the hall, but when she refused to move, a subtle movement of his wrist and she heard his hidden blade unsheathe, a silent warning that she didn’t have a choice other than to comply.

He ushered her into a small sitting room off the main corridor, his hand pressed firmly to her lower back. “That was quite the reaction you had. I didn’t think you’d’ve heard me.”

“I don’t know what you mean.” She replied, defeated.

He made a noise of irritation, clasping his hands behind his back. “You’re only making it harder for yourself, my dear. Now, let’s try this again.” He circled around in front of her, forcing her chin up to meet his gaze. “What is your name?”

She attempted defiance, but all the fight was gone in resigned defeat. “Elisabeth Montgomery..”

“That wasn’t so hard, was it?” His voice dripped condescension, and she managed a glare in his direction, which he ignored, finally releasing her chin to again clasp his hands behind his back as he slowly circled her, studying her. “Why are you here, Miss Montgomery? To kill me, I suppose?”

“Why would I kill you?”

“I’m not a fool. I’ve seen you watching me. Not just tonight, for weeks. Why would you be so intrigued? Surely not just for your own curiosities. You’re one of _them_.”

“Pardon?”

He rolled his eyes at that. “An _Assassin_.” He spat the word like poison, and she worked her mouth into a petulant frown.

“In the eyes of society, I’m still a girl. I should be getting married and bearing children, not training to be a killer. Why would I throw my prospects away?”

“We all have our reasons, my dear.”

She stared him down for a long moment, gaze unwavering. “You can’t prove a thing.”

“I don’t need to.” He replied dryly. “The entirety of the Templar order will know your face. You won’t last a week on the streets.”

He seemed satisfied with the fear that spread across her face. “But I won’t order it.”

“What? Why not?” She spluttered, and he smirked. “Why kill you? I don’t need to. Your orders are to assassinate me. What will they do when they’ve learned you’ve failed? You’ll be nothing but a street urchin by sunup on Monday. You’re no threat to me, Elisabeth Montgomery.”

 

She’d fled the mansion at that statement, shoving her way through the crowded ballroom. The footmen had stepped forward to block her passage as she tried to escape the room, no doubt suspicious, but a glance back into the room found Haytham, observing her exit, from the balcony of the ballroom. A wave of his hand granted her freedom.

She met his eyes once more, hatred burning in her own, before making her escape. She’d be watching him, but biding her time more carefully this time. But Haytham Kenway _would_ die by her blade.


	3. Chapter 3

  
She sat in the back of the tavern, hidden away in a shadowy corner, watching Kenway’s movements across the crowded room. He’d only be able to spot her if the candlelight caught her movement just right, and even then, it would only be if he was looking dead at her.  
Then again, she didn’t put it past him to spot her. He was trained, very similar to the style of the Assassins. She wondered briefly if he had been one of them at some point, like Shay.

Shay.  
  
Thinking about him was painful. She missed him, even though she knew she shouldn’t. He’d turned against them, betrayed his family. The man she’d called brother, the man she loved—  
  
She quickly decided she didn’t care, forcing her thoughts back to Kenway. It would be all the worse if Haytham had been a brother before, would make killing him harder for her.

  
She’d voiced complaint in the Brotherhood about the mission. Haytham Kenway was simply too strong and too powerful for one Novice Assassin to kill.

  
But she’d been sent back out anyways, and for that she was bitter. The Brotherhood was going to get her killed, and she doubted they would care if she did.  
Instinctively, she pulled her hood down further, hiding her face, raising her glass to her lips.  
  
The clank of a tankard being dropped to a table was enough to attract her attention, but when she looked up at the man that dragged a chair over to her table, almost uncomfortably close to her own, and sat down on it backwards, it was enough to make her choke on her drink, coughing violently, her eyes watering as the alcohol burned even more, stinging her nose and throat and making her eyes water.  
The man sent her a devilish smirk, whacking her good-naturedly on the back as she spluttered, wiping her eyes.

“What the _hell_ are you doing here?” She demanded quietly, regaining her breath.

“What, a man can’t say hello to his sister?” He asked, familiar lilting Irish accent filling her ears.

“Don’t you dare call me that. You betrayed us.”

“You understand why I did.” He retorted, brown eyes suddenly narrowed accusingly at her.

“What do you want, Shay?” She demanded, more than fed up. He was going to blow her cover— although, it was likely that was his intent.

“My boss knows you’re here, Lisse.” His voice had softened again, no longer angry, more resigned. Gritting her teeth, she shook her head. “Of course he does. Haytham Kenway just seems to know everything, doesn’t he. And don’t call me that.”

“He’s well informed, yes.”

“Why didn’t he kill me?”

“What?” Shay looked at her in surprise.

“That party. He knew who I was the moment he saw me. He knew _what_ I was. Why didn’t he kill me?”

Shay didn’t answer, dark eyes trained on the tabletop, and she sneered. “How does he know so much about me, Shay?” Her voice was low with unspoken accusation, and he sent her a wounded look.

“I haven’t told him a thing about you, Elisabeth.”  
  
She held his gaze silently, eyes narrowed furiously, and he finally looked away, uncomfortable under her piercing stare.  
“Why should I believe you?” Her voice was hardly above a hissed whisper, and he looked pained.

“You used to trust me with everything, Lisse.”  
  
“Do not call me that. And I used to be a naive little girl, Shay. But when little girls are betrayed by one of their brothers, one of their closest friends, _the man she was in love with_ , things tend to bloody _change!”_

Her voice had risen furiously, and several people around them turned to stare. Elisabeth sent them a venomous glare, and they resumed their conversations, but she spotted a few sending her glances out of the corners of their eyes.  
Shay was staring up at her, as she’d risen from her chair, his face a play of emotions, everything from shock to sadness, and she abruptly sat down again, reaching for her glass, and glowering into it as she found it empty.  
  
“I didn’t know you loved me.”  
  
“I did at the time.” She responded bitterly, neither of them looking at each other.

“Only at the time?” His voice held a hint of sarcasm, and she felt anger bubble up in her again, sending him a dark glare.

“You took a young, sixteen year old girl, made her all sorts of stupid promises, made her feel like a princess. Then bedded her one night, and in the morning, you were gone. Never to return. Betraying those you called brother. And sister.” She added as an afterthought.

"How could you, Shay? No, how _dare_ you."

He eyed her carefully, obviously nervous by her even tone, the sudden calmness of her voice, but didn’t manage the opportunity to question it, as the last person Elisabeth wanted to see at that moment appeared at the table.

“I’d advise you to work on your subtlety, Miss Montgomery. Attracting the attention of an entire tavern is not an ideal way to conduct business.” Haytham drawled, but Elisabeth hardly heard him, her gaze still fixed on Shay.

“You are a _coward,_ Shay Cormac.” She murmured, voice wavering with disgust, tears forming in her eyes against her will.  
  
Shay’s gaze darkened at the insult, rising quickly from his chair to tower over her, but she had heard all she wanted, stepping away from the table. Facing Haytham, she spread her hands and gave a sweeping, mocking bow. “Master Kenway. Always a pleasure.”

Her voice dripped with sarcasm and defiance, but Haytham only seemed amused.

“Lovely to see you again, my dear.” He returned, touching his hat in mock greeting.

She sent Shay one last glance over her shoulder, filled with betrayal and anger, then pushed her way through the crowd towards the door.

  
  
Haytham sent Shay a sideways glance, taking in his appearance. The man was staring after the girl, for once allowing emotion to cloud his features.

“Remember what she is.” Haytham warned, laying a hand on Shay’s shoulder.

Shay rose, shrugging Haytham’s hand off. “I know what she is. She’s the same as I was.”  
Haytham’s gaze darkened. “Are you having doubts?” He snapped and Shay straightened.

“No, of course not. The Assassins are fools, and will destroy this world if allowed to continue in their ways. I only wish..” He trailed off, his gaze returning to the way Elisabeth had gone.

“You were close.” Haytham commented, and Shay nodded mutely.

“I betrayed the ones I called brother with nary a backwards glance, but she is the one I truly regretted leaving.”

  
Haytham was silent, allowing Shay a moment to wrestle with his thoughts in peace.

“I wish there was a way to convince her the Assassins are wrong. For her to change her ways and join us. But she is stubborn to the end and loyal to a fault.”

Haytham mused for a moment.

 

“I will see what I can do.”


	4. Chapter 4

 

_Three years prior_

  
The summer night air of New York was still and dreadfully humid. Elisabeth sat on the front steps of the Manor, stripped down to linen breeches and thin blouse, barefoot and weaponless, save the single dagger strapped to her hip.  
  
“How do you stand this bloody weather?” She gasped as the door opened behind her, tugging at the damp neckline of her blouse, as Shay sat beside her.  
  
He gazed at her silently, mirth in his eyes as she glanced sideways at him, finding him to be dressed in nothing but his trousers.  
 “Ah. Apparently you don’t.”  
  
“It’s after dark and still over 90 degrees. Let’s go to the river.”  
  
He rose and offered her his hand, and she allowed him to pull her to her feet, padding across the grass after him as he strode off. Jogging to keep up with his long strides, she scanned the moonlit area. No one was around, thankfully, and she poked her toes into the water, testing the temperature.  
  
There was a tap on her shoulder, and she glanced back at him, barely spotting the wicked grin on his face before he shoved her in.  
  
She screamed as she fell with a splash, coming up drenched and muttering curses under her breath.  
  
“Damn you, Shay Cormac..”  
  
“Please, Lisse. You love me.”  
  
She glanced past him, her eyes widening in shock.  
  
He started at the look, turning around and attempting to find what she was so startled by.  
  
“Lisse?”  
  
The instant his back was turned, she made a grab for him, toppling him into the water.  
  
“Shite!” He gasped as he pushed his now soaked hair from his face, and she snickered.  
  
“Turn about is fair play, Shay.”  
  
She voiced complaint as he stole the ribbon from her hair to tie back his own, pouncing at him and making a grab for it, but he caught her easily, lifting her and tossing her back into the water.  
  
Huffing, she sent a wave of water at him, catching him in the face. He spluttered for a moment, managing to clear the water away, then sent her a mischevious glance.  
  
“Little minx. Want to play, do you?”  
  
She squeaked, attempting to run, but didn’t get far as he tackled her, landing on top of her in the shallow water. Squirming as he pinned her solidly, she scowled up at him, but froze as he hovered low over her.  
  
“Shay..?”  
  
She was cut off as he lowered his head, his lips meeting hers. She met the touch with equal desperation, her fingers curling in his hair—  
  
“Oi! What d’you two think you’re doing?”  
  
A rough Irish accent cut the air, and Shay bolted upright, whipping his head around to scowl at his best friend.  
  
“Do you mind, Liam? Hard to get a moment alone with a lady around here..”  
  
“You know that’s not allowed, Shay. Get on out of here before Achilles finds out what you’ve been doing.”  
  
Shay rose, scowling darkly as he climbed up the bank. He turned his head to send her an apologetic wince, muttering something she couldn’t hear to Liam, before storming off back towards the Manor.  
  
Elisabeth propped herself up on her elbows, the water lapping at her sides and making her shiver slightly, despite the muggy air.  
  
Liam sighed, tromping down the bank and splashing into the water to offer her a hand up.  
  
“You alright, lass?”  
  
“Fine, Liam. Hope he’s not too angry with you.”  
  
“He will be for a while, but he knows I’m in the right.” Liam brushed a bit of dirt from her blouse, looking her over.  
  
“Achilles won’t be too happy with you if you show up looking like this. Best avoid him on your way back in.”  
  
“I will.”  
  
“Get on, then.” Liam smirked at her, and she tossed him a grin, padding back up the lawn to the manor.  
  
  
Stealthily making her way upstairs, she slipped into her room, having managed to go unnoticed, and pulled her soaked shirt over her head, tossing it onto her chair as she searched through the wardrobe for a dry one.  
  
“Now there’s a sight..”  
  
She gasped and whirled around, clutching the dry shirt to her bare chest as she scowled at the figure hidden in the shadows.  
  
“What are you doing here?” She demanded, scrambling to pull the shirt over her head, and he smirked, pushing away from the wall to saunter towards her.  
  
“To finish what we started.”  
  
“Did we start something?” She asked dryly. “You gave into temptation momentarily. A slip-up. I understand. But it’s like Liam said, it isn’t allowed.”  
  
“To hell with what Liam says, Lisse. Liam is a stickler for the rules and quite frankly, it’s boring.”  
  
“Bet he lives longer than you, Shay. Your recklessness will be your downfall.”  
  
“I doubt either of us will live all that long, Lisse. It’s an occupational hazard of the Assassins.”  
  
“You’re not helping your case..”  
  
“Are you telling me no, then?” His dark eyebrows arched, and she glared at him.  
  
  
“I never could say no to you, Shay..”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I know it's been absolute ages since I last updated this story, and for that, I do apologise! I've lost muse for this story and have only been able to recently begin to work on it a bit again, hence the shorter chapter. I'm planning to start reply on Rogue sometime this week, so hopefully that'll help get some more creative juices flowing..


End file.
